Marcus Miller: Plucking Plateau

CHANGE HAS BEEN AN INTEGRAL PART OF THE career of
Marcus Miller the musician for hire. He’s gone from young
New York City session ace to Grammy-winning producer, composer, and
multi-instrumentalist for such divergent talents as Miles Davis, Luther
Vandross,
David Sanborn, and Aretha Franklin, to sought-after film composer. So, the
instantly
identifiable voice of Marcus Miller the solo artist—forged on his ’77 Fender
Jazz Bass
over eight studio and live albums since 1993— ha s been both a welcome
contrast and a comfort. But the four years since 2008’s Marcus have clearly had
an impact on Miller’s muse, and the end result is nothing short
of striking.

Renaissance is a departure on several fronts. Leaner, lighter
production enables the focus to fall on Miller’s blazing young
band: saxophonist Alex Han, drummer Louis Cato, keyboardists
Kris Bowers and Federico Peña, trumpeters Sean Jones and
Maurice Brown, and guitarist Adam Agati, with guest turns from
Rubén Blades, Dr. John, Gretchen Parlato, and Adam Rogers. To
fuel their fire, Miller reached deep to come up with retro-leaning,
soul-resonating compositions rich in nuance and twists. Couple
that with his always-inspired recasting of a handful of cover songs
from across the musical landscape, and the Brooklyn-born bassist’s
latest ranks among his very best.

Perhaps the real revelation on Renaissance’s 13 tracks is Miller’s
work on fretted, fretless, and upright bass (dig his doghouse
elocution in all registers). Marcus has joined the exclusive club
of his frequent tour mates Herbie Hancock and Wayne Shorter,
seemingly able to play anything that comes into his mind without
technical limitations and with complete emotional conviction.
The ideas flow from his fingers with such ease, it’s only upon
re-listening that you realize the range of techniques and degree
of difficulty required to fl y so far and free. Also in common with
the aforementioned masters is the way Miller leads and guides his eager
ensemble with his instrument. Whether
playing a bass line, sharing a melody, or supporting
a soloist, there’s a constant sense of coaxing and
challenging that brings out the best in all parties.
We spoke to Marcus in Los Angeles and Paris to fi nd
out what led to his urban renewal.

Renaissance marks a new direction for you. How did
you arrive at this music?
After my previous studio album, I wanted to go
in a different direction—but that can be difficult to
do when your life isn’t moving in a different direction.
So I put myself in some new situations: I did
a live album with an orchestra, and I did SMV with
Stanley Clarke and Victor Wooten and a Miles tribute
tour with Herbie Hancock and Wayne Shorter.
All of those experiences sort of cleansed my palette
and opened me up to fresh inspiration. But the project
that most immediately led to this CD was the 18
months I toured with Tutu Revisited. I had gotten a
young band in place, hoping they would add a new
flavor and help me update this [Miles Davis] music
from the past, and that’s exactly what happened. I
was really enjoying the energy, so I thought it would
be nice to take my time and compose some strong
material for these musicians, to showcase the sound
we found and developed on tour. I ended up calling
the album Renaissance because we’re recalling a time when it was all about the
musicians interacting
with each other, and the feeling and magic
that was a result.

How did you approach this new sound as a producer?
It was a reboot for me there, as well. When I
started producing in the late ’70s and early ’80s, it
was hard to do a well-produced record; you really
had to know your way around the studio. So I developed
skills in that area, and on some of my albums I
was playing the production as much as I was playing
the instruments and the music. You could take my
records and turn them up in your Jeep, with all the
808s [sounds from a Roland TR-808 drum machine]
banging around! At this point, I’m not as interested
in that. The focus on this CD is just the compositions
and the performance, so it’s much more immediate
sounding. I tried to focus on making the writing clear
and making sure there was nice balance between the
way it feels and the way it makes you think.

“Redemption” is striking for the urgency and
ambiguous tonality of the bass line, as well as the
call-and-answer role of the bass in the bridge.
That fractured sense is intentional. “Redemption”
is about how in tough economic times you can
really lose your spirit and get beaten down. So, you
have to look deep within and figure out what makes
you valuable and unique. That’s why the tonality
is vague, to represent searching for that goal. And
the bass line is pushing and encouraging, saying,
Don’t stop. Keep looking—it’s in there; everyone
has their special qualities. Ultimately it’s a song of
support and hope.

As for the bridge, when we first ran it down
someone in the band said, “Oh, we’re doing jazz!”
I smiled because to me, my music is all the same,
just with different accents—you accentuate the harmony
here, the groove there. Now I’m realizing some
people didn’t hear the harmonies on my previous
albums due to there being other aspects of the mix
that grabbed their attention. That’s one of the benefits of stripping down the
sound on this CD: It’s just
the composition and the band. My music is always
a combination of R&B, funk, and jazz; this record
presents a different blend of those ingredients.

“February” is indicative of the role your bass plays
throughout the CD, moving from melody to bass line
to countermelody and back to melody, as well as both
supporting and leading the soloists.
I was trying to find an integrated, organic way
to lead this young band. A lot of cats think all you have to do is step out front,
play the melody, and
have everyone follow, but I was looking for a different
way to lead and command; I wanted to be more
of a supporter who occasionally comes in and comments
on what’s going on, and then every once in
a while, when it’s necessary, take over and play the
melody or suggest an improvised direction. The
bass is such a beautiful instrument in that it can
go under the music and support from there, or sit
on top of the music. I tried to show the whole bass
picture with the way these songs are constructed.

“February” itself reflects the creation of the CD.
Late winter is when everything is cocooned, yet
there’s plenty of growing and developing going on
beneath the surface. I was writing this music during
that period, excited to reach springtime and unwrap
it for the band, and see how we would arrive at the
finished product. It’s about possibilities; that’s the
feeling I was going for.

“Jekyll & Hyde” typifies your ability to musically
blend widely contrasting sections.
Originally it was called “Wayne Hendrix.” The
first part reminded me of an Art Blakely & the Jazz
Messengers soul-jazz melody. Then, when I decided
it was time to change the channel and I wrote the
next section, it reminded me of the kind of rock Jimi
Hendrix and his Band Of Gypsys would play—sort
of soul-rock. During a mix session, my engineer,
Dave Ward, said, “When do we get to that Jekyll and Hyde tune?” I liked that
title better, so I changed
it. At the end of the song, I tried to make both sections
come together by playing the soul-jazz part
with a hard-rock edge. What really drives the tune,
though, is the melody. I wanted to find notes that
really get in your bones. I watch people at the sessions,
like when they’re packing up afterwards, and
see who is humming what—or, the next day, who’s
still humming the tune. And sometimes they’ll tell
me, “Man, that tune is on my damn nerves; I was
humming it all night!”

What’s the stylistic influence of “Interlude:
Nocturnal Mist” and “Revelation”?
“Mist” is a beautiful piece written by Luther
“Mano” Hanes that I played on bass clarinet for
Israel & New Breed’s A Timeless Christmas CD
[Sony, 2006]; I thought I’d cover it on bass here. It
leads into “Revelation,” which is my compositional
answer to “Mist.” It’s in 6/8, and harmonically it
reflects Trane during his Crescent [Impulse, 1964]
period, with songs like “Alabama” [Live at Birdland,
Impulse, 1963], which are sort of based on a simple
minor triad. But then Alex Hahn starts opening up
the tonality in his saxophone solo, and in response
I begin commenting intently from below.

Your signature placement of a bass anthem and
a hit-song cover can be found in “Detroit” and War’s
“Slippin’ Into Darkness.”
I have a collection of bass lines in my head that Marcus Miller’s ’77 Jazz Bass
plays a real “renaissance man” role on his latest
CD, showing fluency in bebop upright-speak, soul and funk finger and thumb
grooves, blues-rock riffing, and machine-conversant hip-hop strides—as well as
delivering lead and countermelodies in a rainbow of vocal and horn
dialects.

Example 1 shows the opening groove/melody of “Detroit.” Use the
ghostnotes
that precede the upbeat Bb and C at the end of the bar 1 and the beginning
of all four endings to help you firmly nail those accents. Also, be mindful of
the
up-and-down thumbing required in the 3rd ending. Overall, Miller advises, “sit
back just a tad.”

Example 2 contains the bass-and-horns unison melody 5:50 into
“CEE-TEE-EYE.”
Although there are no supporting chords, Miller wrote the lines by
experimenting with
extended harmonies over the song’s B minor tonality; for example, beat two of
bar 1
outlines a C#7(#5) chord. See if you can analyze some of the other tonalities
he implies.
Says Marcus, “I wrote it for the horns, but after showing it to them on bass in
rehearsal,
I decided to play it, too. The key is to get your fingerings first and play it
in time; then
listen to where the horns push and lay back, and try to match their
phrasing.”

Finally, in an exclusive to BP readers, Ex. 3 is taken from “Rebop,”
a solo-bass bonus track on overseas releases of Renaissance. Miller
wrote and dedicated the piece to his upright influences Paul Chambers
and Sam Jones. The excerpt begins at the 0:12 mark, which is the
second A section of the AABA form. Listen for how well Miller cops
’50s-style post-bop phrasing. “If you play all of the eighth-notes the same
way, eventually it sounds corny, so those guys would push every
fourth note or so, to break it up. Check out records with Paul and Sam
soloing, as well as cats like [pianist] Wynton Kelly, and dig their phrasing.”
Also catch the interesting way Marcus implies the chords in bars
6–8, using only two notes at a time. He adds, “I’ll be putting up a video
clip of me recording ‘Rebop’ on my website.” I’ve been using for 30 years, and
I don’t realize it
until I see some clip of me playing one while trying
out a bass. Then I go, Wow, I’d better make a song
out of that. “Detroit” came from one of those bass
lines, just a funky tune named for a funky place. And
“Slippin’ Into Darkness” is another bass line that has
been with me for a long time. I remember being on
gigs where the audience wasn’t responding to jazz and we’d break out
“Slippin’,” and everything would
be fine, so I thought it would be fun to record. We
went in an jammed it out, and I edited it down from
a 15-minute track. Like “CEE-TEE-EYE,” later on the
CD, it has a sort of Oliver Nelson-meets-CTI vibe.

You cover a recent hit in Janelle Monáe’s “Tightrope.”
What I dug was how she took what sounded
like old New Orleans boogie-woogie and made it
into something new. I thought I could accent the
New Orleans aspect, so I got Dr. John to hang out
with me and told him I wanted him to rap on it. He
said, “I’ve never rapped before,” and I said, “Don’t
worry—I’ll show you how!” We messed around in
the studio and you can hear him really enjoying
himself. I played the main bass line on a Kolstein
Busetto Bass, and I overdubbed some electric bass
melodies and solos.

You flip Ivan Lins’ Brazilian standard “Septembro”
in an interesting way.
[Keyboardist] Federico Peña and I started playing
that on the Tutu tour, and I thought, let’s record
it, but with an Afro-Cuban slant, using Dizzy Gillespie’s
“Manteca” bass line. We brought in Rubén
Blades on vocals, who was amazing and told some
great stories between takes, and Gretchen Parlato,
who sings so beautifully—rhythmic and breathy
at the same time. I found a wonderful old French
upright at [L.A. music shop] Stein on Vine that had
a great sound for the “Manteca” vamp section, and
toward the end of the track I thought it would be
cool to use it to trade riff s with my fretless bass.

Your version of “Mr. Clean” perfectly suits the
sound of your young band.
There’s definitely a musical and spiritual connection,
because while most people know Freddie Hubbard’s
version [Straight Life, CTI, 1971], for me this is
the signature song written by one of my key musical
mentors in Jamaica, Queens: the late Weldon Irvine.
He would put together gigs for kids like Omar Hakim,
Bernard Wright, and me, and he’d tape them and make
us listen back, in his Chevy Nova. He’d say, “Why did
you change up right there?” And I’d say, “I guess I was
bored.” And he’d say, “Well, you screwed up the whole
song because you’re young and don’t have the attention
span to hold the groove!” Of course, my band is
much more musically mature, but I try to take on the
same guiding role. We were playing this song on the
road last year and we had a day off , so we went to a
rehearsal studio and worked it up. In the middle, we
just stop and go to a new key and feel, but then we
turn on a dime back to the original.

There’s an appealing simplicity to your solo take
on the Jackson 5’s “I’ll Be There.”
I was doing a bass clinic in France shortly after
Michael Jackson died, and I played this version on
the spot. It’s just the bass line and the melody, with
hardly any chords, which represents how I heard it
as a kid: just Michael’s voice and the bass. My assistant
reminded me about it, and I thought it would
be a good way to end the CD. I used a Boss Loop
Station to create the looped changes I blow over at the end. We have video
footage of me recording it,
which I’m going to put on my website.

What inspired your bass clarinet/upright/fretless
feature “Gorée”?
We did a gig in Senegal, and we visited the island
of Gorée, just off the coast of Dakar, which is where
they kept slaves like cattle in these little houses for
three months, to make sure they were fit before
shipping them to North America. I wrote the song
about the feeling of walking through one of the
houses, as the tour guide described daily life there.
It was emotional thinking about the horrible conditions
and what lay ahead for them overseas, but
there’s also a positive side that reflects my being an
African American who is able to return and share
my music with Africans so we can all continue to
grow and build together, culturally. I used bass clarinet
because of the somber, inherent sadness of
its tone, and I recorded the track on fretless, but
then I went back and overdubbed the first half on
upright when I realized that’s the sound I was emulating
on fretless.

The song’s B section represents the hope.
Really, the whole CD is about a new beginning. I
see it happening all over the world in my travels;
everyone is turning the page, starting to look at
things a little differently, thanks in large part to
the social media revolution. We’re on the edge of
an exciting period, and I want my music to reflect
and inspire that.

What can you reveal about your upcoming Sirius
XM Radio show, and what else lies ahead?
I was among the guest hosts for tributes to Miles,
Herbie Hancock, and Luther Vandross, and the Sirius
folks said it was time to do my own show. They have
a straightahead jazz channel and a smooth channel,
so I want to fill the gaps with the music that falls
in between. I also want to do interviews and have
some shows on the history of the bass. Aside from
that, the rest of this year we’ll be touring the U.S.
and abroad in support of Renaissance, and I’m going
to do another Miles tribute run with Herbie and
Wayne. Looking ahead, I’m thinking about doing a
concept album under a project name, utilizing guest
vocalists—yet another new direction.